Garman And Worse A Norwegian Novel by Alexander Lange Kielland (best ereader for pdf and epub txt) 📕

And Fro In The Empty Rooms. Thus Had Uncle Richard Been Wandering Every

Day Since His Brother'S Death. Restlessly He Passed In and Out Of One

Room After Another,  Then Up And Down The Long Ballroom; Now And Again

Into The Room Where The Body Lay,  Ever To And Fro,  In and Out,  The Whole

Livelong Day,  And Far Into The Night.

Rachel Was More Grieved At The Loss Of Her Father Than She Could Have

Believed Possible During His Lifetime. But A Change Had Lately Taken

Place In Her Nature; She,  Who Was So Exacting Towards Others,  Was Now

Brought To Examine Herself,  And Could See How Much There Was In Her Own

Nature Which Required Reform. She Could Now See Plainly Enough,  That It

Was Principally Her Own Fault That She And Her Father Had Not Understood

Each Other Better. It Was Only During His Illness,  That They Had Both

Come To Know How Many Ideas They Had In common,  And What They Might Have

Been To Each Other. Now It Was Too Late,  And She Looked Back On Her

Wasted Life With Regret; For Jacob Worse'S Idea Seemed To Her Quite

Impracticable.

The Day Before The Funeral,  Madeleine Was Sitting In The Room Which

Looked On To The Garden. It Was A Raw,  Cold Spring Morning,  With A

Drizzling Rain From The South-West,  And She Had Been Obliged To Close

The Window. Upstairs She Could Hear Her Father'S Heavy Footfall,  Which

Came Nearer,  Passed Overhead,  And Then Became Lost In The Distance.

Never Had She Felt So Oppressed,  Sick At Heart,  And Lonely As In That

House,  In Which There Reigned The Silence Which Always Seems To

Accompany Death.

A Knock Was Heard At The Door,  And Pastor Martens Entered The Room. Mrs.

Garman Had Particularly Invited Him To Pay Them A Visit Every Day.

"Good Morning,  Miss Madeleine. How Do You Feel To-Day?"

"Thanks," Answered She,  "I Am Pretty Well; I Mean About As Well As I

Usually Am."

"That Means,  I Am Afraid,  Not Particularly Well," Said The Clergyman,

Sympathetically. "If I Were Your Doctor I Should Order You To Go

Somewhere For A Change This Summer."

He Still Kept His Hat In His Hand,  And Remained Standing Near The Window

Which Led Into The Garden. Madeleine Was Sitting On The End Of The Sofa

At The Other End Of The Room.

"This Is A Gloomy Day For So Late In The Spring," Observed Mr. Martens,

Looking Into The Garden; "And A House Like This,  To Which Death Has

Brought His Sad Tidings,  Is A Mournful Place."

She Listened To Him,  Keeping Her Eyes Fixed On The Ground,  And Without

Returning A Word.

"A House Like This," He Continued,  "In Which Death Is Lying,  Is A

Picture Of The Lives Of Many Of Us. How Many Of Us Carry Death At Our

Hearts! Some Hope Or Another That For Us Has Long Passed Away,  Or Some

Bitter Disappointment That We Have Buried In The Depths Of Our Soul."

He Could See That She Bent Her Head Lower Over The Sofa,  And He Went On

Speaking Earnestly And Soothingly,  And Almost To Himself.

"Since It Is A Good Thing For Us Not To Be Alone; Since It Is Good For

Us To Have Some One To Cling To,  When The Bitter Experiences Of Life

Cast Their Shadows Over Us,  So--"

Madeleine Suddenly Burst Into Tears,  And Her Sobs Reached His Ears.

"I Beg Your Pardon," Said He,  Coming Close To The Sofa. "I Was But

Following The Bent Of My Own Thoughts,  And I Fear I Have Made You

Unhappy,  When My Object Ought Rather To Have Been To Endeavour To Cheer

You. Poor Child!"

Her Sobbing Had Now Become So Violent That She Did Not Any Longer Try To

Conceal Her Emotion.

"Dear Miss Madeleine," Said The Pastor,  Seating Himself On The Sofa At A

Little Distance From Her,  "I Am Sure You Are Not Well--I Have Observed

It For Some Time; And You May Imagine How Painful It Is For Me To See

You Thus Suffering,  Without Having Any Right To Offer You My

Assistance."

"You Have Always Been So Good To Me," Sobbed Madeleine. "But No One Can

Help Me,  I Am So Wretched--So Wretched!"

"Do Not Indulge Such Thoughts,  My Dear Young Lady; Do Not Allow Yourself

To Think That Any Feeling Of Wretchedness Is So Great That It Cannot Be

Mitigated. Intercourse With The Friend Who Understands Our Nature Has A

Wonderfully Soothing Power Over The Sick Heart. And For That Very

Reason," Added He,  With A Sigh,  "I Feel It Doubly Painful That You Will

Not Allow Me To Be Such A Friend To You."

"I Cannot," Stammered Madeleine In dismay. "Do Not Be Angry With Me. I

Do Not Mean To Be Ungrateful. You Are The Only One--But I Am So

Nervous--I Don'T Understand It All. But Don'T Be Angry With Me;" And She

Held Her Hand A Little Nearer To Him.

Pastor Martens Took The Hand,  And Pressed It Gently Between His Own.

"You Know I Mean To Be Kind To You,  Miss Madeleine," Said He,  In an

Earnest And Soothing Tone.

"Yes,  Yes,  I Know You Do. But Do You Believe--" And Her Eye Rested On

Him With An Earnest Expression.

"I Am Afraid Your Mind Is Disturbed; But I Hope That I May Be Able To Be

A Trustworthy Guide For You Through Life. You Have Been Unwilling To

Accept Me,  And I Will Not Importune You; But I Must Tell You That

Everything I Have Is At Your Service."

"But If I Am Unable--But If It Is Too Much For Me. No,  I Cannot!" She

Replied,  Hiding Her Face In Her Hands.

His Voice Was Kind,  Almost Fatherly In Its Tone,  As He Moved Nearer To

Her And Said,  "Tell Me,  Madeleine,  Do Not You Feel As If It Was Almost A

Dispensation Of Providence? When I Asked You For Your Hand,  You Rejected

My Offer Hastily--Without Consideration,  May I Venture To Say? That Hand

Now Lies In Mine." She Made An Attempt To Withdraw It,  But He Held It

Fast. "Here Are We Again Brought Together. Is It Not As If You Were

Destined To Be Mine--You Who Are So Lonely And Forsaken Amongst Your Own

Relations? You Do Feel Lonely,  Madeleine,  Do You Not?"

"Oh Yes; I Do Feel Lonely--So Dreadfully Lonely," Said She,

Disconsolately; And Whether He Now Drew Her To Him,  Or Whether She Gave

Way Of Herself,  She Now Lay With Her Head On His Shoulder,  Wearied And

Helpless. And,  As His Voice Sounded Bland And Soothing In Her Ears,  She

Seemed To Recover Her Breath,  As If After A Long Period Of Oppression.

In A Moment She Was On Her Feet: He Had Ventured To Kiss Her Brow. He

Also Rose,  But Still Retained His Grasp Of Her Hand.

"We Will Not Tell Any One About It To-Day," He Said Reassuringly,

"Because Of The Affliction Which Has Come Upon Your Family. But We Had

Better Go To Mrs. Garman,  And Ask Her Blessing. With Respect To Your

Father----"

"No! No!" She Cried; "Father Must Not Know Anything About It! Oh,

Heavens! What Have I Done?" She Murmured,  Holding Her Hand Before Her

Eyes.

A Bland Smile Passed Over His Face As He Took Her Arm In His. "You Are

Still A Little Discomposed,  Child,  But It Will Soon Pass Away." He Then

Led Her To Mrs. Garman'S Room.

"Could Not We Wait Till To-Morrow? My Head Is So Painful," Entreated

Madeleine.

"We Will Only Just Show Ourselves To Your Aunt," Said He,  Quietly But

Decidedly,  As He Opened The Door.

They Found Mrs. Garman In Her Room,  Sitting Comfortably In Her Armchair.

Before Her She Had A Tray,  On Which Stood A Bottle Of Water And A Small

Straw-Covered Flask Of Curacoa. On A Plate Was Some Chicken,  Which Had

Been Cut Into Small Pieces And Neatly Arranged Round The Edge,  And In

The Middle Was A Little Shape Of Asparagus Butter,  Garnished With Some

Chopped Parsley.

When Madeleine And The Pastor Entered The Room,  She Was Just In The Act

Of Holding A Piece Of Chicken On A Fork And Dipping It Into The Butter,

But When She Saw Them She Put Down Her Fork With An Air Of Indifference,

And Said,  "I Hope,  Madeleine,  You Will Not Forget To Thank The Lord For

Thus Changing Your Obstinate Heart; And For You,  Mr. Martens,  I Will

Hope And Pray That You Will Never Have To Repent The Step You Have

Taken."

For A Moment Madeleine'S Eyes Seemed To Flash,  But Mr. Martens Hastened

To Observe,  "My Dear Madeleine Is Quite Overcome. Would You Not Rather

Go To Your Room? We Shall Meet Again To-Morrow."

Madeline Felt Really Thankful For His Suggestion,  And Gave Him A Feeble

Smile As He Followed Her To The Door.

When The Pastor Had Gone,  Mrs. Garman Could Not Help Thinking How

Differently People Behave As Soon As They Are Engaged. She Suspected

That She Would Not Find The Chaplain'S Society So Agreeable For The

Future.

Pastor Martens Was So Overjoyed That He Could Scarcely Take His Usual

Midday Nap. Later In The Day It Began To Clear Up; It Was Only A Sea-Fog

Which Had Come Up During The Night,  As Is Frequently The Case In The

Spring. Everything Appeared Radiant And Bright To Martens As He Came

Along The Street From The Jeweller'S,  Where He Had Been To Order The

Ring,  But He Took Care Not To Show His Feelings; It Would Not Do To Look

Too Pleased On The Day Before The Funeral Of His Intended'S Uncle.

In The Market-Place He Met Mr. Johnsen.

"You Are Coming To The Funeral To-Morrow?" Said Martens,  Insensibly

Leading The Conversation Into The Direction Of His Own Thoughts.

"No," Answered Johnsen,  Drily; "I Have To Give An Address At The Mission

Bazaar."

"What,  Between Twelve And Two? Why,  The Whole Town Will Be Following The

Funeral."

"It Is For The Women,  My Address," Said The Inspector,  As He Continued

His Way.

"Well," Thought Martens,  "He Is Indeed Changed! Prayer-Meetings,

Missions,  Bible-Readings--Quite A Different Kind Of Work!" Said The

Chaplain Mysteriously To Himself. His Feelings Were Almost Too Much For

Him.

A Little Farther Up The Street He Met Delphin On Horseback. There Was

Such An Unusual Expression On The Clergyman'S Face,  That Delphin Pulled

Up His Horse And Called Out,  "Good Morning,  Mr. Martens! Is It The

Thought Of The Discourse You Have To Deliver To-Morrow